Growing Up
by Nishinn
Summary: In the Kingdom of Spades, the King and Queen have just been murdered, and what the jack finds are but two orphan children bearing the marks of royalty. Alfred, too carefree and Arthur, too doubtful, both far too young. But growing up in the palace presents its own set of challenges, especially when one king keeps trying to prove himself to a queen who dislikes him. (Cardverse!USUK)
1. Chapter 1

There was always a king, a queen, and a jack. A chain of three that bound the kingdom together.

In the Kingdom of Spades whose emblem glowed blue, in its castle with a million rooms, in its limestone towers and gold-lined walls, in its vast ballroom with crystal chandeliers, in its exquisite throne room which radiated wealth, in the chambers of the king and queen, in the royal blue silks of their bed, lay the bodies of the two, who now lay at rest.

Two old men, bound by the Spadian symbols blooming from entwined palms, were now watched over by the young jack as their bodies lay unmoving.

Yao, but a nineteen-year-old boy from the east, having served under the two old monarchs for scarcely three years, now felt overwhelmingly vulnerable. For so long, he'd looked too them for guidance and strength; they were his anchor. He'd felt so small under their gaze—gazes that were so proud and ever comforting. Now, they were gone, and a new king and queen would take their place.

Would they be kind? Wise and old? Would they be young, and innocent, to be brought up in spoiled wealth and empty palace halls?

Whoever they might be, Yao would watch over them. He would fulfill his duty as jack. He would not let something akin to this happen ever again.

"Clean the blood," he said to the maids. "Take the arrows from their chests," he said to the servants. "Open the gallows," Then, with narrowed eyes said to the guards, "And execute the murderers."

* * *

When Alfred heard that a new kid would be moving into their orphanage, he expected somebody exactly like him and his friends. Well, they weren't all alike. They were unique snowflakes, all of them, like Miss Amelia always said. But they were all around the age of six or seven, some shyer than others, some a bit louder. They were all friends and they all played together. They loved candy and running and joining Miss Amelia's sing-a-longs on Thursday nights.

But the new kid, Arthur, he was… well, he was a stick in the mud.

Now, Alfred knew that sounded mean, and he would never say that out loud, but truly the new kid was _exactly_ that.

Alfred was the first to see him. He'd gotten a good amount of candy from his seventh birthday just a day before so he saved a bar of chocolate as a gift for the new kid.

He crept down the stairs on the morning of July 6th, and peaked out the corner into the homely lobby.

Miss Amelia was conversing quite bubbly with a woman who was a bit shorter, whose hair reached her knees and eyes covered with glasses. By her legs stood a tall boy, perhaps nine years old, looking tired and grumpy and had the largest eyebrows Alfred had ever seen.

His hair was blond, like his own hair but lighter, and his eyes were green like the forest in the spring. Like gems gleaming quietly in the firelight.

Alfred decided he liked his eyes, and resolved to tell him so.

So when Miss Amelia waved goodbye to the other woman and led her to the door, Alfred bounded from his spot and met with the new kid, who now stood alone in the middle of the lobby.

He looked surprised at first, then questioning at the chocolate bar waved in his face. Then he scowled at Alfred. "What do you want?"

"Hi! My name's Alfred. I heard you're the new kid, right? Anyway, it was my birthday two days ago and I got a bunch of candy so-"

"I don't care about your birthday. What do you want?"

"Oh," Alfred blinked, taken aback. "I uh, well, I wanted to give you this chocolate bar!"

Arthur regarded him cautiously, a scowl still plastered on his face. Alfred shifted, but he would not be deterred. Maybe the new kid was just grumpy, is all.

"I don't want your chocolate," he finally said.

Alfred's tiny heart must've broken. He was only trying to be nice! Why was this kid mean to him?

Miss Amelia came back, then said something about it being nice meeting Arthur.

Arthur? That must be the new kid's name.

She took the older boy by the hand and led him around the corner, but not before telling Alfred to go upstairs and sleep for it wasn't even breakfast time.

Alfred felt upset. But then, maybe it wasn't the new kid's- Arthur's fault. Yeah, he must be upset too. Alfred would just have to make him happy. Miss Amelia said he was a hero; he could make anyone happy! And that was just what he was going to do.

* * *

"Arthur! Arthur!" Alfred cried, speeding between crowded breakfast tables and sprinting past children to reach the kid with huge eyebrows who sat sulkily under an apple tree, all alone.

"Arthur!" Said Alfred, out of breath, holding up a chocolate bar in triumph. The new kid scowled up at him, but did not move.

"You again? I said I didn't want your chocolate!"

"But why? Don't you like chocolate? I saved it especially for you, and I was hoping we could be friends, you know?"

"No, I don't know. And kids like you will never be my friend. Now sod off and leave me alone!"

When Arthur yelled, Alfred jumped back. Just a bit. He wasn't afraid.

Arthur was practically growling now, but Alfred did not want to give up. The new kid was definitely not shy, so maybe he was just nervous? Sometimes kids get angry when they're nervous. It happened a lot of the time, when aspiring parents came around looking for children to adopt.

Or maybe Arthur was just upset that he was now an orphan. Maybe his parents died or something. Alfred would be gentler this time, a bit more soft-spoken though he knew that wasn't like him at all.

"Hey," Said Alfred with a gentle smile. "I know this place might be weird and new to you, but it would be really good if you made some friends. We're all really nice here and we get along together, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who wants to be friends with you. I promise, I'll be really nice to you, Arthur! So what do you say?"

Alfred held out the chocolate bar again, hoping against all hope. "This chocolate bar's the really good kind! You don't have to take it, though. Just say so." He smiled, but Arthur didn't.

"I told you to sod off, brat!" Arthur huffed. He stood, taller than Alfred, and sneered down at him. "I don't know you, and I don't want to know you. But I know your kind and I'm not trusting you one bit. Now leave me alone!"

He stomped off, back into the mess hall, leaving Alfred close to tears with a lonely chocolate bar. Why was Arthur so mean?

Alfred didn't believe that bullies existed, even though he's heard of them. Maybe Arthur was a 'bully' but just needed some love. That must be it. That had to be it. Alfred wouldn't give up until he made a friend of Arthur. He would be sure of that!

* * *

"Alright class! Open your workbooks to page fifteen and answer the questions!" Miss Amelia's voice was a happy chirp. She bounced over the heads of cross-legged children sitting in the grassy garden, excitedly flipping through their books ready to answer questions about _The Princess and the Pea,_ a legend old as time from the kingdom of Clubs.

"Psst, hey, Arthur," Alfred called to the tall boy who sat close to him. Well, _he_ sat close to Arthur in the first place, even though he was at the very back of the crowd and Alfred usually liked to sit at the very front.

"Arthur, Arthur!"

" _What?"_ The other hissed. He had his pencil in an iron grip.

Alfred offered an apologetic smile. "Hey, do you know what, um, _eks—excuse-_ no. Um, this word, _ex-_ "

 _"Exquisite._ " Arthur grumbled.

"Wow, you can pronounce that? What does it mean?"

"It means _really fancy_ or _really nice_ or something like that. Now, go back to your work or I'll tell Miss Amelia."

"Miss Amelia's nice," Alfred said with a thoughtful smile. Arthur didn't yell at him this time! "Do you like her?" he asked.

"She's too nice. But everyone likes her, I suppose." Sighed the elder boy.

Alfred blinked, once again bewildered. " _Suppose?_ What does that mean? Gee, Arthur you sure do know a lot of words! You're really smart, you know."

It may or may not have been a blush, but Arthur's cheeks seemed to redden just a tad. His scowl, however, deepened somehow, yet his words did not match his expression. "T-thank you. It's just a basic word! Nothing to fret over. And uh, that means ' _I guess'."_ The words were strings tumbling out of his mouth. Flustered and timid, he went back to his workbook.

Hmm, maybe Alfred had somehow broken through this time. He smiled. It would only be a matter of time before he could truly call himself Arthur's friend. "Hey, Arthur? What does, um, this mean? _A-ack, a-quick,_ uh- _aching-_ "

" _Acquire!_ "

* * *

"Wooh, thanks, Art! I would've totally failed that thing if it weren't for you!"

"Shut up, Alfred. And why are you still following me?"

Alfred looked around and noticed that they were out of the orphan mob having lunch in the mess hall. They were outside, watching from a distance; Arthur with his tray of food making for the lone apple tree in the garden.

"Hey! Don't you want to eat with the others?"

"I don't like crowds." Arthur answered simply. "Please, just go back to your friends."

"Eh, they'll be fine!" The younger boy waved his hand dismissively. "I want to hang out with you."

Arthur looked a little less than pleased at his answer, but this time, he didn't tell him to 'sod off'.

 _Progress._

He took his seat under the shade, back to the trunk, and Alfred sat across from him. The breeze was cool and the grass was dry and the roses by the door smelled a million times closer. Alfred hummed pleasantly and began to bite into some bread.

"Yuck."

" _Wha?"_ Alfred's head sprang up, filled with food and confusion.

"One bite and you've gotten sauce all over yourself! Dear Spades, don't you have any manners?"

"Manners?" Alfred swallowed with a loud gulp.

Arthur's frown twisted into an expression of disgust. "Ugh. Wipe that off! You look like a clown drowned in ketchup," He stated, but the corners of his lips were tilting up, and Alfred knew that despite his reprimanding, he was getting enjoyment out of this.

"Heh, am I a funny clown?" Alfred pushed. "'Cause then I can make you laugh!"

He smiled, then giggled, then laughed openly, and not a second later Arthur shook his head with what might've been a tiny, _tiny_ smile gracing his lips.

"You're a buffoon, Alfred." Was all Arthur said before throwing a napkin at his face, the younger boy still laughing with gleeful abandon.

* * *

Given three days with a sulky, older kid, Alfred liked to think that he'd begun to warm up to Arthur. He liked his accent, and he'd told him so. Arthur blushed and called him a ' _git'_ but refused to explain what that word meant.

He didn't push Alfred away when they went to have breakfast, lunch, and dinner under the apple tree together and he didn't scowl at his incessant ramblings. He may have cracked a smile or two, and maybe even thanked him for getting him food.

But what left Alfred confused was how he seemed to enjoy belittling him an awful lot.

He called him a pathetic kid. He called him small, innocent, impatient, and irresponsible every chance he got. Alfred was the gullible kid; childish, and 'utterly helpless' on his own, whatever that meant.

But Alfred didn't see what was wrong with that—he was a kid, after all. Kids were a lot of those things, and he thought, so should Arthur, but then Alfred found that Arthur was different like that. Maybe it was because he was older. Still, he was only nine years old! Then again, Alfred had never really spent any time with a nine year old, as most orphans had already left the orphanage by the time they turned eight years old.

Maybe that's why Arthur was so stuffy. Maybe he just wanted to be adopted, like the rest of them. Maybe, but Alfred wouldn't bring it up for now; it was still too risky, and he had yet to gain Arthur's complete trust.

He would prove that he could be an awesome friend! Really, he would.

Again, after Miss Amelia's lessons, they made their way through the noisy mess hall. Children laughed and snorted, and threw food all over their tables. Miss Amelia however sat listening to the radio with her small plate of food by the door.

Alfred strained his ears to hear. Sometimes, they'd have action-plays, or even some music! He enjoyed the radio during those times. Unfortunately he found today to be just another silly news broadcast. How boring.

" _-ing and Queen of Spades, King Kurt and Queen Ram have…. in their bed…. died hand in han…. Jack Yao of Spa-…"_

"Stupid static!" Said Miss Amelia, wrestling with the spindly wires on the metal box.

Alfred left her to follow Arthur.

"Hey, Arthur," Alfred said, plopping down in front of him as they sat under the apple tree. "Who was that lady that brought you here? Was she someone you knew?"

Arthur hummed in thought, picking at the grass by his foot. He wasn't a particularly cheery kid, either. "Her name was Miss Alice. She ran the orphanage I used to stay at." He mumbled, voice low.

"You were from another orphanage?" Alfred's eyes bugged out wide. "What happened?"

"Well…" Arthur hummed again, deep in thought. He was tossing the idea about in his head—Alfred could see it, in the jittering manner of his hands, his half-lidded eyes, his lips pulling into a thin line. Finally, the boy sighed, and his eyes darted back to meet Alfred's.

"The place was going bankrupt," Arthur stated. "As I heard, Miss Alice couldn't keep all the kids, so she started looking for places to send them to. I was one of the last to go, and Miss Amelia said she could only take one kid because of how many you already have. I suppose Miss Alice was getting quite desperate, you know, to get all the children out before they begin to starve."

"Oh, well that sucks," Alfred remarked with a pout. Arthur let slip a small smirk and then Alfred was smiling too.

"Believe me," said the elder. "This place is _way_ better than that old misery shack."

"Oh, is it because of me?" Alfred grinned with a wiggle-waggle of his eyebrows.

"Well," Arthur tilted his head. "It certainly has something to do with the company."

Alfred counted this as a victory. If Arthur didn't yell, and he smiled quite bit, then it counted for something, right?

And then Alfred talked, well into the hour. Arthur would sometimes nod, sometimes stare into the grass like it held the most interesting little questions when in fact, Alfred had the questions. He asked and asked, and Arthur's answers were scarce. But Alfred loved them. He loved his voice.

He didn't mind the occasional snide remark, nor the commentary on his apparent 'stupidity.' When Arthur smiled, smirked or hummed, when he let out a single chuckle or looked at Alfred with a hint of amusement, he found Arthur to be very much worth it.

"Hey, come on," Alfred finally said. "Miss Amelia will be roundin' us up soon, you know. Let's go."

Then he stood, and held out his hand. Arthur stared.

It was at that moment Alfred realized he'd never actually _touched_ Arthur before. Not even a single elbow rub. Now, he was offering his hand for Arthur to clutch. Would he even take it? He still seemed to dislike Alfred. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he'd gone too far. Maybe Arthur wouldn't want to be friends for his sudden forwardness.

"Oh, alright you impatient twat," Arthur said with a roll of his eyes.

Alfred might have smiled so wide that it hurt.

And then Arthur took his palm, fingers sliding over Alfred's in a firm hold, then hauled himself up effortlessly despite the boy's small stature.

"Well, then." Arthur blinked. "You're quite a strong lad for your- ah, ow!"

It was like a bat hitting Alfred's palm with a firm slap, painful and sudden, and the two boys jolted back. Then a pinprick of needles began to work its way down Alfred's arm, coating his fingers, his wrist, down to the crook of his elbow. He realized with some horror that the same thing was happening to Arthur.

Blue—blue vines so vibrant they seemed to glow on his skin. Spiky leaves and tiny roses bloomed over Alfred's forearms, like a living tattoo swirling this way and that, all connected to a single blocked symbol right in the center of his palm—the Spade of his kingdom.

"Alfred! Arthur!" That was Miss Amelia; she was running to them, staring at their arms. She looked torn between whether she was to scream or cry; and then she sobbed, hands over her mouth. "You two… the king and queen."

* * *

 **(a/n): Hope you guys enjoyed that! I'm planning to make this into a multi-chaptered story following the two growing up, so leave me a review if you like and tell me what you think! :D**

 **~Nish**


	2. Chapter 2

**(a/n): Hellloooo thank you to all of you who've reviewed and followed this story, it means a lot! Anyway I also wanted to formally apologize for failing to push my references to an eleven and making it look like the last king and queen formed a suicide pact...**

 **Welp, hope you enjoy this one folks! Thanks!**

 **((Disclaimer: I don't own hetalia and jason dean does not appear in this story imalmostsory)**

* * *

Whereas Alfred's mark had delicate vines with blooming blue roses, Arthur's arm was covered with the markings of an iron gauntlet, almost. Elegant metal-like workings, forming an intricate web of a blue gate, or perhaps a shield. Something akin to that, connected to a Spadian mark spread right over his knuckles—right where Alfred's thumb first touched him when Arthur took his hand.

The Royal Guards had come to the orphanage all dressed in their gold and blue glory. Alfred had gawked then, much like the other children, and gawked when he saw the fancy-looking blue carriage they were to ride in. His mouth had been hanging open from when he was told he was a monarch, to having said goodbye to his friends, to sitting in cushions so soft he never thought possible in a carriage pulled by elegant white horses, to seeing the huge metal gates surrounding the palace he was soon to live in. And that was just the outside!

The gates parted in their slow, massive movement, and the exquisite courtyard of Spades was revealed to them. Grassy areas and stray bushes were sprinkled around marble and cobblestone walkways, spreading over the enormous grounds. The symbol of the spade was everywhere—on the carriage, the hedges, the gates, the guards' uniforms, and on the coats given for Alfred and Arthur to wear.

And Arthur, right across from Alfred in his seat, was gawking in equal fashion although with more confusion and less awe.

"Arthur! Isn't this so cool?" Alfred asked, beaming with excitement.

"Cool?" Arthur was incredulous. "Alfred, this is—"

Unfortunately, he never got to finish his sentence when the carriage jolted to a halt, tipping Alfred forward in his seat. The door do the side was pulled open to reveal a young man standing at the bottom of the stairs which led to the front door.

He was lean and tall, with dark eyes and long dark hair tied at his shoulder, a few stray strands curling around the side of his face. He regarded the two with a look of genuine surprise, before he coughed into his hand and fixed his expression into something more welcoming.

Alfred grinned at him. "Hi!"

"Hello," said the man with a pleasant smile. "My name is Wang Yao, but you may call me Yao, as most people call me too. I am the Jack of Spades."

"Woah!" Alfred breathed, jumping out of the carriage. "That's so cool! You're the Jack? That's so awesome!"

"Wait, wait," There was Arthur, taking a careful step out behind Alfred. "I-if you're the jack, doesn't that mean you serve under us? I mean, uh, as t-the king and queen."

Yao nodded. "Yes, that's right."

Alfred couldn't understand why the older boy looked so worried. Maybe he was simply too overjoyed?

"Wait, no!" Arthur cried. "That can't be, we're just kids! We can't be expected to run a bloody kingdom!"

Yao only smiled kindly, a look Alfred found similar to what Miss Amelia did whenever a child cried over something.

"Calm down, Arthur," he said, kneeling down to their height and offering his hand. "You two won't be expected to run the kingdom yet. You'll be raised here, in the palace, and you will be under my protection. I would never let anything harm you two, and when you need me I'll be there with a single call. Is that okay?"

Arthur didn't answer at first. He stared at Yao with disbelief, hands curled together under his heavy blue cloak. "I-I don't know," he croaked.

"That's alright. You will be okay."

"Thanks, Yao!" Alfred piped. "I trust you already!"

Yao raised an eyebrow, but offered a chuckle toward the younger boy who now jumped in his place.

"Alright, alright," the jack said in his calming voice. "Well, let's see. Alfred, would you please give me your arm? Yes, the only with the mark of Spades. Ah, look here," Yao pointed to the Spade which lay in the center of Alfred's upturned hand, Arthur watching curiously from the side.

"There's a hole there," The older boy commented. Yao nodded in agreement.

"And see how the hole is in the shape of a Spade?" Indeed, it made the mark look like a slightly thicker cookie-cutter.

"Now, Arthur give me your arm. See, on your knuckles, your spade is filled completely. That means you're the Queen, Arthur."

* * *

The palace was wonderful! Alfred was led down winding halls filled with pretty-looking furniture, gold and blue pieces of art, and, the best part, walls upon walls lined with ancient-looking armor shining and gleaming with weapons Alfred wanted so badly to touch, but Yao had told him not to and Arthur was looking at him weird.

They walked through the throne room—it was insanely huge! Two identical golden thrones stood in the middle of a raised marble podium, equal in height and structure. Alfred couldn't believe he would be sitting with Arthur on those soon!

But as they walked passed he could help but sense the melancholic emptiness surrounding the thrones, curtains drawn over windows and drapes set over some paintings. It was like the room didn't feel as lively as it should have been, and suddenly, neither was Yao.

They were tugged along by the Jack, further into the palace, and his mood immediately lightened as they left the room. Alfred gawked at tapestries and paintings, at weapons and armor, yanking at Yao's clothing and asking about all the battle-scenes he saw.

And the man indulged him. He gave a name and a year to each tapestry without pausing, said who fought who when Alfred asked, and was rewardingly greeted with high-pitched exclamations of _"woah!_ And " _so cool!"_

But when Alfred looked over his shoulder, he found Arthur trudging along with his cloak wrapped tightly around his shoulders. His eyes darted around the palace, lacking any sign of excitement or joy. He had interest, yes, but he seemed almost… afraid.

It was unusual and almost scary in itself, it wasn't like confident, snarky Arthur at all! But Alfred decided he was still just nervous. It would pass, surely! He could get Arthur to play around the palace and have picnics out on the huge grounds—it would be great!

But for the moment Alfred quieted down and walked at the boy's pace. Maybe he just needed some comfort.

Arthur fixed him with a scowl, taking a few paces back, but when Alfred was about to question him Yao snapped his fingers to their attention.

"Look here, you two. This is the palace library, where we house over sixteen-thousand books from all throughout the known world!" Yao stood them right in front of a set of massive open double-doors, where inside were shelves that spanned from floor to ceiling filled to the brim with books and ladders running along their lengths. Elegant glass tables filled the massive room, complete with plush seats and a royal blue rug encompassing the entire floor.

"Books?" Alfred mumbled, not entirely sure if he should be amazed by this, but next to him Arthur was staring with eyes wide as saucers.

"Wow," he whispered.

"Come along now. You can visit these places after you clean up."

* * *

After Alfred had been spun around in a dizzyingly huge bathroom and dressed in a fresh white cotton shirt and black trousers, he was led into a bedroom comprising of two beds, facing each other at opposite ends of the room, along with shelves and dressers filled with all sorts of entertaining-looking things.

And then Arthur was there, dressed in quite the same outfit. But he was fuming, sitting on his bed with crossed arms and a glare to the floor.

"Now, you two just relax for the rest of the day," said Yao. "Talk, sleep, whatever you please. If you need me, simply holler down the hall. If you want food, you can call for a maid and ask them to fetch you something. Please, make yourselves at home and don't think too much, alright, Arthur?"

The older boy jumped, meeting Yao's pointed look. He was confused, but nodded nonetheless.

"Alright, then!" Yao clapped. "I'll take you around the grounds tomorrow, give you simple pointers, and arrange for your lessons and schedules in a few days."

"Lessons?" Alfred questioned, wrinkling his nose.

"Yes, lessons. As the king and queen in training, you two have to be sensible and ready enough to lead the kingdom! I'll see you for dinner."

With that, the door was closed and Alfred was left alone in a massive room with one evidently upset Arthur.

"Hey, um, Arthur—"

"I can't believe this," The green eyed boy growled, glaring at the floor.

"You're… upset that we're king and queen?"

"No. I'm _angry_ and in utter _disbelief_ that _you,_ " He fixed his glare on Alfred. "Are the bloody king."

Alfred stared at him. He took a step back. Something about Arthur's words, especially after he thought he'd made some sort of progress with him, sent a knife through the boy's heart. "W-why?"

He didn't understand. This was supposed to be great, wasn't it? They were two lost boys who just needed a family, and now they were handed excessive wealth and power and a chance to change things for the better! They now had something of a family in Yao and each other, the power to help others like them and more. The power to make a significant change, and Arthur was mad about it?

"You don't get it, Alfred. We're handed this- this _enormous_ responsibility! We're supposed to grow up and dig this kingdom out of the ditch it's in and _you—_ you're the king! Stupid, carefree, irresponsible, _dumb_ Alfred who can only possibly be a nuisance—the boy who's supposed to lead!" Arthur grit his teeth and stood, making the younger take another step back.

"This was a mistake. I'm not spending my time around you."

So Alfred was left alone in the room, more than a little hurt.

* * *

He found Arthur inside the library climbing one of the ladders to reach a particular spine he'd spotted up above.

Yao was there too. He stood leaning against the doorframe with arms folded, watching Arthur with thoughtful eyes. Alfred made to stand by his side.

"I heard that, you know."

"Huh?"

"Has Arthur always… disliked you?"

Alfred pursed his lips, unsure of what to say. "I…" He sighed. "He hated me from the start. He moved into the orphanage just a few days ago and, since then he was really mean."

Yao hummed. Looking up at him, Alfred decided he liked Yao. He seemed confident, nice, full of helpful advice. He seemed like a wise old master ready to whip out a sword and fight with analytical grace at any given moment.

"Are you a samurai?"

Yao jumped, bristling suddenly. "O-oh, uh, no. You must be thinking of, uh, others. Other people. "

"You look like one of those people from samurai places."

"Exactly." Yao gave him a tight smile. "Well, my place of origin _is_ close to where the samurai are from, a-and people do mix us up. But they're ancient, ah, haven't been around for years. They started over at the Kingdom of Hearts, you know, in the east."

"But you're like a samurai," said Alfred thoughtfully, thinking back on Miss Amelia's history books and the drawings they held. "I think that's pretty cool."

Yao blinked. "Well, thank you, Alfred." And then he furrowed his brows, going back into thought, before resurfacing and facing Alfred with a renewed smile of confidence.

"Do you dislike Arthur too?"

"No!" Alfred gasped. "I really want to be friends with him, but," He deflated. "I guess he hates me."

"Well, he has a reason, you know. People don't act out against others without any reason. It could be something about his past, before he ended up at the orphanage—who knows. But the reason has stuck by him, so you'll have to convince him otherwise."

"Oh. How do I do that?"

"Well, take it slow. Make a good impression, but don't push it too hard. Most of all, though, be yourself. Stay true." Yao looked at him gently, but Alfred still frowned.

"He hates myself."

"Ah, but he hasn't seen your entire self yet. It will be alright, you'll see."

Oh Alfred hoped so, if he was to spend the rest of his life with the 'stick in the mud'.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Leave a review, and tell me what you think!**

 **Also, by the way that Heathers reference was only there because I was thinking of a name for them and I just... wrote down the first two names off the top of my head. I was listening to the soundtrack while writing, prompting that tidbit.**

 **So yeah! By the way did anyone notice how the Heathers + Veronica are color-coded like the 4 cardverse kingdoms? 0.0**


	3. Chapter 3

a/n: Hey there! Alright, so I know it's been forever since the last update, but I've been writing, i swear! Well, maybe not _all_ the time, but I've scrapped 4 other versions of this chapter, and I think I've finally got it. Juicy stuff happens in chapter 4, and it's already in the works.

Hope you like this one too!

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

It must've been around midnight, Alfred decided, when he finally allowed his eyes to shoot open after hours of tossing and turning in the impossibly soft mattress he was assigned.

He couldn't sleep. For the first time in a long time, Alfred couldn't sleep. This, he thought, was peculiar. The last time he found himself unable to drift into peaceful slumber was the first night he was separated from his twin brother, Matthew, who had been adopted by a young couple who'd opted to leave Alfred out. It broke his heart, but he couldn't beg the parents to take him or beg Matthew to stay; it was simply better for Matthew to leave, even if that meant Alfred would be alone.

But now Alfred was the King of Spades, an over-privileged seven-year-old lying in the softest mattress in the world, belly full with warm roast meals and buttery deserts. And yet he found himself awake, with the old, sickening feeling of isolation churning around with the remains of his dinner.

Alfred groaned and turned on his side. Maybe the feeling had to do with room?

It was big, three times bigger than the old bunker-rooms. The ceiling was so, so impossibly high that Alfred could bring the old apple tree into the place and it wouldn't even reach the top. On his side, Alfred could look out the magnificent window, its velvet curtains drawn open, and then further out into the palace gardens that was now a field of moving and shifting shadow, sprinkled with slivers of white where moonlight caught on marble statues.

If Alfred listened closely, he could hear the leaves sway and rustle in the cold evening air, almost like a distant ocean whose waves crumbled gently over a rocky shore. And above that he could hear soft, even snores, muffled by the mount of blankets and cushions that lay across the room from his feet.

Arthur was under there, sleeping away, the only evidence of which was the steady rising and falling of his cocoon of sheets.

Alfred wondered about him. He wondered about the boy's stubbornness, his anger, especially his anger towards Alfred. He could've sworn Arthur was already warming up to him, but for some reason because of the universe's sudden announcement that they were the official Monarchs of Spades, Arthur would do everything he could to avoid looking at him. Hell, he'd probably never touch him again after the hand-mark fiasco.

But no one was like that by default, Alfred argued. Perhaps it was all the change. Yes, that must be it. Arthur had gone from his home, gods know what happened to his parents, to an orphanage, to another one, and then scarcely a week later, was declared the Queen of the Kingdom and told that the giant palace that was always looming over the city was now his home.

The poor guy probably didn't even know what to call home anymore. He must have been dragged around from place to place and felt that nothing was permanent.

It was sort of like when Alfred was assigned a different cot bed with Matthew each night and he wasn't sure whether they would gain a permanent cot bed ever again, but they found one eventually, and they rested easy for a solid year.

So he would just have to let Arthur know that they could rest easy, and they'll be having it for _way_ over a year.

* * *

Arthur had been basking in the morning light long before Alfred had, but he remained on the edge of his own grand bed, and had been staring at the younger boy for a solid five minutes when tiny blue eyes finally cracked open, to find Arthur up and the room flooded with light.

After a small session of yawning and stretching, Alfred, voice cracking from sleep, thought to ask, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I was just thinking, you know," Arthur blinked, and tilted his head. "About how unfair this is."

Alfred sat up and raised a brow. "Unfair? Uh, did you want to have my bed…?"

"No," Arthur sighed, and finally looked away. His green eyes were still squinty from sleep as he stared off into the now brighter palace grounds. "I think it's unfair that we're forced to be king and queen all of a sudden. We're just kids. We can't handle this responsibility." He looked at Alfred then, eyes narrowing with distaste. " _You_ can't handle this," he spat.

It was then that Alfred jumped awake, flared up by a sudden defiance. Instead of going off on his statement about how they were young and would be trained, _yadda yadda_ , he piped up with an irritated, "How come?" He knew he said it like a challenge, but when Arthur pointed that glare at him, he immediately wanted to back down.

"Because _you_ are a young, naïve fool. _You_ will never take responsibility. _You_ will never take any of this seriously," Arthur said coldly.

"And you will?"

He paused, gaze faltered. Then, it just as quickly hardened to stone. "Maybe I won't," Arthur said in defiance. "That's why the both of us are better off on those streets than we are running this place. The only difference is that _I_ know that truth and you do not."

The older boy stood and walked out of the room, leaving Alfred a shaking mess of fear and anger in his own grand bed.

* * *

The dining hall was ten times larger than the bedroom in every conceivable way. Massive windows flooded the place with sunlight, tapestries depicting all the previous monarchs decorating the spaces in between. And the grand centerpiece of the hall was the long oaken dining table that could fit up to over half a hundred people, surrounded by five other tables of smaller size.

The two young monarchs sat at that immaculate table in the front center, gaping at an array of scrumptious breakfast foods laid out before them. The eggs alone came in so many different varieties that Alfred couldn't even name them all; devilled eggs, sunny-side up, poached, boiled—all hot and ready and mouth-watering.

But it was still kind of lonely. A hall that could feed over two hundred people serving only two, and the only other guest present wouldn't even look at Alfred.

The sounds of clinking metal was the only thing that filled the room, bouncing up and away towards the ceiling to remind Alfred of how the previous night's dinner had been just as empty. At least then he had Yao to speak to.

Then, as if by magic, at Alfred's thought the heavy double doors glided open and in stepped the Jack of Spades, dressed in a pristine blue suit that did not match the weary smile he wore on his face.

"Alfred, Arthur!" The young adult greeted, approaching the boys with so much enthusiasm Alfred couldn't bother to comment on his tired frame.

He took the seat at the head of the table, right between the two children, and proceeded to shovel a hefty helping of toast and eggs onto his plate. "Boy, you two wouldn't believe the morning I had!" Yao laughed.

"It's—well, only half past eight," said Arthur timidly.

Yao gave him a knowing look as he shoved a forkful of pancake into his mouth. " _Exactly,_ my dear boy." He winked.

"Hey, Yao, are you doing anything later?" Alfred asked through a mouthful of omelet.

Yao peered at down at him with a curious look that was punctuated with a small grin on his lips. He swallowed, then brought a glass of fruit juice to his mouth. "Why is my King asking?" He chuckled before gulping the drink down.

"I wanted to know if you can hang out with me and Arthur again. We haven't seen much of the palace and I'm sure we'd get lost if we tried to explore on our own, you know?"

Across the table, Arthur looked like he was going to object to something, but Yao interrupted with the loud thump of his empty glass slamming onto the wooden surface.

"Well," said the Jack, shoveling another helping of food onto his plate. "I've been awake for four hours and am _very_ caffeinated, so I suppose I can go for a little adventure before I collapse after lunch. Does that sound good, Alfred?"

Alfred hummed. "Sounds awesome!" Although he had no idea what _caffeinated_ meant.

Again, Arthur had sat up to seemingly object, but Yao turned to him with a softer smile. Any words of protest died on the boy's tongue, and he closed his mouth.

"Arthur," the Jack began, turning in his seat to face him. "I know you've been through a lot I don't know about lately, and are probably confused and afraid and are over-thinking this whole monarchy thing, yeah? What I want you to do is to stop thinking about that for now. Don't think about being King and Queen, don't think about 'responsibility'. Maybe Alfred here has the right idea—think about this place as your cool new home with cool new stuff. It's a place you can adventure through and explore at your own leisure, you know? You said it yourself, you're just a kid. So enjoy this place like a kid would."

Arthur didn't meet Yao's eyes. He nodded quietly in his seat, hands folded in his lap. "I'll… do my best."

Yao nodded, despite the boy's obvious uncertainty.

"Alright, I've cooked up a plan in my head for you guys today. I've heard they'll be starting their training out back in a few minutes, so how about I let you guys check out the Royal Guard in action?"

* * *

Yao decided to take them through the scenic route. They waltzed out the front doors of the palace and began walking around the gardens. Alfred gaped at the topiary depicting images of valiant knights on horses, majestic bird-like animals, and most popular of all, the symbol of the Spade. It was in elegant white statues and carved into pillars. Some stone paths were chunks of blue rock carved into the prominent symbol.

Butterflies fluttered around bushes here and there, and all about grew a curious vine that sprouted bright blue flowers that, when Alfred watched Arthur pluck one up, was in the very shape of a Spade as well. He almost giggled about how the palace was so patriotic that even the plants were in line with the Kingdom's emblem.

Finally, after perhaps a quarter of an hour skipping around the bright garden, they arrived at a high stone wall split in the center by a pair of heavy wooden doors. Beyond the wall Alfred could hear rhythmic shouting and clanking of metal.

His heartbeat sped up, and blood rushed to his ears. This was actually happening. He was going to see soldiers fighting with real swords and spears, not like the cardboard swords they played with back in the orphanage. Alfred had always wanted to be a real knight, and now he was going to see a whole army!

At Yao's word, two guards stationed by the doors pulled them open and Alfred was thrust into an open field of lush green grass. All over it were hundreds of grown men and women wielding swords, spears, bows and arrows, sparring with one another, hacking at dummies, and shooting at targets. Vibrant laughter and gasped conversation mingled in between the practiced yells of those soldiers to create the buzz of noise that hovered over the field.

They moved with such practiced ease, such agile grace, athletic bodies seemingly not breaking a sweat with every turn of their weapon and quick maneuvering of their bodies.

Turning to Arthur, Alfred saw, for the very first time, something other than fear and contempt gleaming in his companion's bright green eyes. In that look was the same feeling that Alfred had bubbling up in his chest—a strange mix of wonder and excitement that resulted in a sort of euphoric agitation. Both of them were in awe at the sight, seemingly caught in a trance. And then a woman spoke up.

" _Cease at once! Pay respect to your Majesties, the King and Queen of Spades!"_

At the first word all movement stopped, heads snapping in the direction of the doors. And then suddenly, weapons were dropped, swords stabbed into the ground in dramatic fashion, every soldier who'd previously been so occupied now ground to a halt to kneel and bow their heads, mumbling some variation of acknowledgement to the two young royals.

In that moment Alfred felt exactly like he did when Miss Amelia had put him on the spot to give a birthday speech in front of all the other orphans. He was looking at them and they were looking at him, all expectant, and finding he himself was expectant of them. He could only stutter and wait for a reaction until the words came to him.

But now he wasn't sure if there even was a need for words. He was about to turn to Yao to ask him what to do, but then he saw Arthur by his side, shoulders stiff and eyes wide with silent panic.

He was terrified. Alfred had no idea why, but Arthur was terrified.

In a rush to do something quick, Alfred slid his tiny palm into Arthur's trembling hand, squeezing reassuringly. What he expected was for the older boy to snap back into himself and withdraw his hand with a scowl, but instead Arthur squeezed back, and his shoulders slowly lost their stiffness.

Yao had likely noticed the exchange, as well as Arthur's current panicked state, and dutifully barked out an order for the guards to return to their positions.

"Forgive me, your majesties," Yao said, attempting a joking smile. "Captain Herdevary is simply one for grand entrances and great dramatics. Don't mind her. She's just flamboyant."

"Flamboyant, huh?"

Calmly walking through the ranks of sparring soldiers was a long-haired brunet woman dressed in leather gear, wielding a sword which she slung casually over her back. Alfred recognized her as the same woman who had announced their titles earlier, and instinctively moved closer to Arthur, who seemed to be grateful for his touch. He didn't shy away at all, and in fact took a tiny step closer.

"You scared them, Lizabeth," Yao said disapprovingly. She arrived to a stop in front of the trio and was peering down at Arthur and Alfred curiously, but also smiling apologetically.

She hummed, and lowered her sword, so the hilt was about level with Alfred's chin. He kind of wanted to touch it.

"Forgive me your majesties, but I've trained my soldiers to give respect and discipline wherever it is due, and addressing the monarchy is quite the higher forms of due respect." She straightened up and held out a hand. "Captain Elizabeta Herdevary of the Royal Guard, your majesties. Sworn to protect the kingdom and sworn to protect you."

Though her smile was welcoming and warm, Arthur only retreated further behind Alfred. Not wanting to be rude, Alfred shook the hand, despite having to stretch up quite the ways to reach it.

Elizabeta chuckled lightly. "Alright, so it looks to me you two came over here to have some fun! Come with me, and I'll show you around the field. You know, you guys are going to be trained to use these weapons too, and you can eventually pick out which ones you'd like to specialize in."

She began to walk back into the organized chaos of soldiers and Alfred moved to follow, but Arthur tugged on his hand, not budging from his spot. When Elizabeta turned to find the boys haven't moved, she offered another apologetic smile and knelt in front of Arthur, gently nudging Alfred aside with another sheepish grin.

"Hey, I'm sorry about earlier. Probably made you uneasy about the whole _royalty_ thing, right? I won't do that again, that's a promise. I'm just a little too grandiose for my own good." She laughed again. "In all seriousness, I'm sorry, my queen. How about I give you a little apology tour, yeah? It'll be fun."

Alfred gave Arthur's hand another squeeze. "Yeah, come on, Art. It'll be great," he said.

Green eyes turned to him, uncertain, and briefly glanced over the captain who crouched in front of him.

"Alright," he mumbled finally, and allowed Alfred to tug him enthusiastically behind the equally cheerful captain of the guard.


	4. Chapter 4

(a/n): Back with another update! Yaaaay! 3,000+ words of fluff. I know I said juicy stuff was coming up, but I got a little carried away, so uh, real juice comin' up in the next chapter.

Btw thank you to everyone who left a review! They all mean so much and give me the energy to keep writing. I love you guys!

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

"The archers," Arthur breathes.

The way he stares and holds his breath as he looks up at the skilled bowmen is evidence of how wondrous they seemed to the young queen in that moment. "I want to be like the archers," he said again, and slowly took another breath.

Elizabeta, the captain of the guard, smiled at him endearingly while the young king beamed like the endless light of the sun.

"That's so _cool_! I can totally see you being an archer, Arthur. You're so tall and your arms are so long you could handle that bow like nobody's business." When Alfred raised his arms in one of his enthusiastic gestures, Arthur was tugged along and a flush came to his face—perhaps at the complement, or the realization that his hand was still being held securely in the younger boy's own throughout the whole walk to the center of the training ground where they now stood.

The soldiers moving about them gave them a sizable berth, but the curious looks they chanced over their shoulders was not lost on Arthur, making the boy a little more squeamish than he'd like to be. But when he watched the archers, so intently focused on their targets, their entire bodies poised so pristinely and calmly, yet filled with the strength and power of a drawn bow, Arthur couldn't look away. He'd like to feel that sort of power, that sort of poise and calmness. Wielding a bow seemed like mastery and control, and Arthur found that immensely appealing.

He turned to Elizabeta in a rush. "When can I start?"

The tall woman laughed and set a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "In time, dear boy. We'd have to have a smaller bow crafter for you if you'd like to start in the next month, for I doubt you'd be able to carry a bow larger than your own body."

"Arthur can do it!" Alfred piped up. "He's super strong, you see. He threw an apple once and it hit me in the head from all across the lawn in the orphanage! I think he was aiming for the basket next to me though, but he can work on his aim!"

"I _was_ aiming for your head," said Arthur.

"Oh. But see? He'd already make a great archer!"

Elizabeta laughed and Arthur shook his head. "What are you going to do, Alfred?" asked the older boy.

Alfred's eyes sparkled, then he turned to the side and pointed to the greater mass of soldiers who were sparring with gleaming blades of steel, sweating in the sun and letting out great laughs and yells.

"I want to fight with a sword!" The cheery boy exclaimed.

"Hmm, messy and impulsive. Just like you, Alfred."

Alfred snorted, but his disbelieving look disappeared when he saw the small smile Arthur sported. He spoke just like he would back in the orphanage. Biting and a bit mean—but hey, that meant he was getting back into himself!

Alfred smiled wider.

He began to talk about how he would fight with a sword as they followed Elizabeta through the field. He talked about how he'd lead the ranks into war one day and obliterate the enemy with his sheer skill. He alone would crumble the enemy's palace with his strength and his sword. All the while, Arthur rolled his eyes and made biting remarks of how unrealistic and stupid he sounded. But the longer the insults Arthur shot, the happier Alfred seemed to get.

"And you know, because I'm going to grow up to be the superest, strongest hero, I'm going to be _your_ protector!"

"Firstly, _superest_ isn't a word. And second, that's already in your job description as king." Arthur huffed, but Alfred just grinned cheekily.

"Yeah, well even if it wasn't I'll still make it my sworn duty to protect you at all costs!"

Arthur looked surprised. He didn't say anything, but made a half-hearted attempt to roll his eyes. Alfred didn't know what that look meant, but he knew that _he_ meant every word of what he'd said. Well, alright, he wasn't exactly sure he could break down concrete walls with his sword, but he was definitely going to be the strongest hero so he could be Arthur's hero. From now on, it was his actual sworn duty to protect Arthur, and he'd stay true to that.

* * *

After their walk with Elizabeta, the very worn-looking Yao took them back into the palace to explore the inner walls. Alfred had spotted him being spoken to by what seemed to be a palace official when they were returning from the field. The expressions on their faces were anything but cheery and prideful. Almost… fearful, actually.

"You don't think something's wrong, do you?" Arthur had asked. Alfred shrugged in response and shared a worried look with the older boy.

As they walked the well-lit and decorated halls of the castle, Arthur quietly asked Yao what that talk was about, if it was something dangerous.

The Jack only laughed and shook his head. "Nothing serious, my boy. A few financial worries—stock market and employment rate—all that boring math stuff you kids shouldn't worry about. We'll be fine."

"I like math!" Alfred said. "Can I help?"

The Jack laughed again, a little less forced, a little less strained. "This is grown-up math, Alfred. Even I kind of don't get it. Hey, let's quit talking about boring _math_ and get to looking around, yeah?"

"Yeah!" Alfred cheered. Arthur remained quiet.

They walked through the palace seeing it in better light than before. They explored room after room filled with paintings and rich-looking junk. Old furniture glazed with gold, tapestries depicting battles and past monarchy. Some rooms were bed rooms, some were sitting rooms, some were locked and Yao refused Alfred's pleas to find their keys.

Yao spun the stories of the great battles depicted in the large paintings that hung along the hall. There were battles for land, for power, for the right to rule their own people. In the old days, the Four Kingdoms fought for dominion of the land, the borders constantly shifting, growing, and shrinking. And then two great wars broke out, one after the other. The Red Kingdom of Hearts was blamed for multiple atrocities, but with their allies turning against them, and with Spades leading the offensive, the country fell into defeat and tremendous debt.

When that debt was repaid and the country forgiven, nearly a hundred years passed, peace ruled over the land for a hundred years more.

"Do you think another war will break out soon?" Arthur asked. When Yao didn't respond immediately, he went on. "Do you think… _we'll_ have to lead the fight?"

"Heavens no!" The Jack jumped. "Of course you're too young to be involved in a war, much less lead it. O-of course, there is no war, Arthur. There will be no war. We live in peace now. We have secure trade and diplomacy arrangements with the other kingdoms, and if a fifth one shall sprout up and threaten us then the other three colors are our allies." Yao smiled reassuringly but shaky, and Arthur lowered his eyes.

"I-I'm sorry. You've probably been very stressed lately. I didn't mean to burden you with… stupid questions." Arthur grew quieter as he spoke, and all but mumbled the last couple of words.

Yao's eyes softened and he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "No, Arthur, it's alright. Your questions are not stupid. I did say I'd answer any question you've got as long as I have an answer."

Arthur nodded, but he was quiet for the short rest of the walk. Alfred's jokes and attempts to coax him back into his biting demeanor did nothing to change the way Arthur lowered his head and kept as still as possible.

Eventually the royal trio wound up at the large pair of doors that lead into the vast library. Yao paused there, then yawned loudly.

"It seems to be an hour before lunchtime," He remarked, flipping open a pocket watch he drew from his suit. "Please, explore the palace at your own leisure. I'm going to have a nap and I'll see you both at lunchtime, if that's alright with you?"

"Of course," said Arthur.

"Yeah!" Said Alfred.

With a polite farewell, Yao walked back down the hall and disappeared behind the corner.

Alfred turned to his companion and beamed up at him. "Wanna go exploring?" He giggled.

Arthur rolled his eyes for the nth time that day and turned to push open the heavy oaken doors. "No. I am going to be in here, if Yao asks for me. There's been a good bunch of novels I've been wanting to read so you can go bugger off somewhere else."

Instead of buggering off like Arthur had quite roughly insisted, Alfred followed Arthur inside the library. He whistled lowly at the vast walls of books and polished marble tables. Sunlight flooded the room from floor-to-ceiling windows that lined one wall, illuminating the tremendously large hall in all its glory.

Arthur briskly ran to one of the closer shelves and selected three books that looked like concrete blocks to Alfred. He probably would've used them as weapons instead of reading material.

When Arthur plopped down at one of the tables and opened a book, Alfred attempted to peer into what he was reading but quickly found the giant block of tiny text to be terribly uninteresting and hopped away.

"Hey, hey, Arthur." He nudged at the older boy, repeatedly trying to get his attention. But when Arthur growled out a low threat to leave him be, and perhaps made a gesture of throwing the boulder of writing at Alfred, he huffily left the room in search of something more interesting to enjoy. He really would rather have Arthur with him, but if he sat there to keep the older boy company, he knew he'd grow so bored he would begin to annoy him again, which might lose him the friendship points he'd gained from their earlier ventures.

Besides, Arthur really did feel like he wanted to be left alone.

So he walked the halls and looked back at the tapestries, deciding that he'd want to get more and more lost. He climbed carpeted stairs and walked deeper into the palace until he saw no windows and the passages were lit with candlelight.

He saw paintings of people he didn't recognize, and peered into keyholes of locked rooms only to find silhouettes of dusty furniture.

Eventually, the boy began seeing windows again, that looked out into the greener part of the grounds that Alfred didn't recognize. He must have ventured around the very far back of the palace by now.

The windows began to become covered with lush green ivy, as well as the vines that grew the tiny, blue spadian flowers. Eventually, Alfred was led to a meek wooden door, and out he went into the sunlight.

He seemed to have been led into a garden of sorts. The grass was trimmed here, and all around were neatly cut hedges, stone pillars where more of the spadian vines grew, marble benches, and blue stone pathways. The area was quite large, but bordered by a familiar stone wall on all sides. To the far right, behind all the greenery, Alfred could see a closed iron gate that seemed to lead out into the rest of the gardens.

Then, Alfred heard the snipping.

Up ahead, the columns supported a stone roof where all over grew vines and ivy and all sorts of flowers that created a roof of greenery. Alfred walked beneath the leaves, and there he found an old man wearing a worn old shirt and raggedy old trousers, leaning on his haunches with a pair of large shears, sniping away at stray weeds on the ground. He noticed that the areas that would normally be filled with an array of plant life was bare, only the green grass to cover them up, and they looked quite recently covered up too. The grass was sparse and the earth wasn't even. Alfred didn't know much about gardens but he was certain gardens were to supposed to have flowers. To him, it simply felt like something was missing. Everything was simply too bare.

Alfred turned to the man working on the weeds and saw that he'd now stopped. He was staring back up at him, with eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Wh-who are you?" The man said in a shaky, bewildered voice. Then, suddenly, his brows furrowed and with great difficulty, he rose up with hands on his knees, shaking the shears threateningly. "Are you a little thief, eh? Are you one of em' hoodlums that keep breaking into my shed an' stealing me shovels? Well I'll have you know that I can get you arrested! I'll be calling on 'em guards!"

"No, wait!" Alfred exclaimed. He stepped back and raised his hands in surprise and a little fear. "My name is Alfred!"

"I don't care what your name is, ya little—" The man's garbled voice stuttered to a halt when his eyes fell upon Alfred's raised palm.

After a long moment of intense staring, the man turned his crusty eyes to meet a pair of fearful bright blue ones. "Yo… you're the king," he mumbled in disbelief, definitely in shock at the tattoo that sprawled all over the young boy's arm. Then, with a great start, exclaimed, "You're the king!"

He dropped his shears and hobbled to his knees, bowing his head as low as it would go, shaking in slight fear. "For-forgive me, yer majesty. I was-was as an ignorant fool, is all. Please seek fit to punish me in any way you see, but please spare me my job, this is all I have."

He was shaky and sounded close to sobbing. The small bit of pride Alfred felt at being recognized as king was quickly replaced by a sort of panicked horror at making a poor old man become so fearful as to beg at his knees.

Feeling like his heart was being wrenched out of his chest, Alfred let out a hurried yelp. "No, please! Don't do that! I won't hurt you, I promise. I'm not a mean king—I wasn't going to steal anything. I just wanted to become friends. Please stop bowing, um, old man."

Cautiously, the old man lifted his head and straightened his back—well, as straight as it would go given the hunch he seemed to have. He stared at Alfred with a hint of fearful reservation and nodded.

"What does me king ask of me?" He said carefully, blinking every now and then at the blue tattoo as if waking from a dream.

"Hey, call me Alfred," the boy said, trying for a smile. He put out his hand for a shake, and the old man stared, once more fearful, at the vines that grew all over it. Seeing this, Alfred began to talk. "I know you think because I'm the king and all that I'll be like one of the snooty, snobby rich kids that parade around the streets in their carriages sometimes, but I promise I'm really nice! I just want to make friends. I don't really wanna order anyone around 'cause that feels really weird. Just, don't be afraid of me, okay? I don't think I have the power to take away your job anyway."

With look of even more disbelief, the old man let out a shaky laugh. "Ha! Well, thy majesty has the power to take away any one of ours jobs. And a king like yourself would likely be demandin' some respect."

"That would be rude," said Alfred. "And I don't want to do that. And hey, if someone's not slapping me in the face I think that's respect enough. So will you shake my hand so I can know if we're friends yet?"

The old man let out another hearty giggle, and with a half-toothless smile shook the small boy's hand. "Friends, eh? No king's ever wanted to be friends with no common folk. I been serving three kings in my whole lifetime including you, and neither of the two's been very kind to folks like us. The nicest they get is when they ain't speaking to us." He let out another laugh. "You best keep that attitude as yer growin' up, eh boy? The kingdom needs it. I certainly hope you don't get all spoiled by the fancy riches that they give ya in there." He nodded up towards the palace, and Alfred turned to look.

He looked back at the old man with a smile full of pride, and declared, "No, I won't turn all stupid. That's a promise! Only stupid people would take away someone else's job just for being yelled at."

The old man laughed again, but this time he was cut off by a bout of loud, watery coughing.

"Are you okay?" Alfred asked as soon as the fit was over. The old man got up with a shaky smile.

"Indeed I am, your majesty. Just caught a bit of a lousy cold. Should be fine in a couple of weeks."

He picked up his shears and resumed cutting off weeds in the grass. "So, what does my majesty come to ask of me?"

"Honestly, I didn't even know you were here," said Alfred. He took a seat cross-legged on the ground and watched the man work. "So you're a gardener? Do you only watch this place? And where are all the flowers?"

The man shook his head with a fond smile. "I don't believe myself to keep up with all your highness's questions, but I'll try me best. Let's see, I am a gardener, and I watch this plot of land here. This is the King and Queen's private garden, you know. They tell me what to put in here and I do it. At first it was just the queen, he was very kind. His wife? Not so much. They got all sorts of lilies put in here.

"The next set of royals had only recently discovered the place. King Ram, now, he was an imposin' figure, and a great leader, but he didn't take as kindly to lowly gardeners like meself as much as the queen. The two talked a great deal about adding lights an' fountains an' a waterfall, an' a whole bunch of expensive flowers brought in from the east. The land over here was bein' plowed up, you see?"

"So what happened?" Asked Alfred. "Where's all the flowers? And the fountain?"

"Well, them majesties were killed," The gardener shrugged. "The Jack had us cease all the work an' return all the land back, an' with no orders I can't plant anything. It's turned into more of a lawn, really. He was practically raised by the king and queen, you see. He was just a bit over your age, I believe, when he came here, orphaned, and became jack. Probably couldn't bear to see the garden of the people who'd never see it. But hey! This is your garden now, and you can have whatever you want planted here."

"Woah," Alfred gaped. " _Anything?_ "

"Yes sir, anything." The old man chuckled. "Anythin' you an' your queen desire. Speakin' of which, where is your queen? Are they as young as you?"

"Oh, Arthur's in the library. He's kind of a grouch and a bit older, and he kind of hates me." Alfred shrugged. "It think if I were to get something planted here, I'd have Arthur's favorite flowers."

A gleam of amusement came into the gardener's eyes. He hefted up his shears and faced the young king on his haunches. "And what, exactly, are the queen's favorite flowers?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Hey, Arthur, can I ask you something?"

It was nighttime now, and Alfred was not surprised to find Arthur sitting on his own bed by lamplight, a thick book in his hands and all his attention focused in between. A tiny twitch of an impressive eyebrow was the only signal that he'd acknowledged Alfred's presence, albeit in a manner that was far from pleased.

Hopping onto the foot of Arthur's extremely large bed, Alfred repeated his question. With a sigh and deliberate lowering of his book, Arthur grumbled out a reluctant, "Fine."

Alfred had not seen Arthur during lunch that day, the latter having requested that his food be brought into the library so he could continue his reading and exploration of its collection without interruption. When Alfred tried to visit him afterwards, he was given the cold shoulder until the young king retreated back to the winding hallways of the palace, left to juggle doorknobs all afternoon. When the sun was low in the sky he made a round trip back to the secret garden where he met the old man, who he now knew as Reece the gardener, and conversed with him until dinnertime.

Now he had Arthur sitting several feet away from him, both on a large bed that could fit ten orphans, while he read a book in an attempt to ignore Alfred as much as possible.

"What's your favorite flower?" Came Alfred's voice. Arthur seemed to startle and lower his book even more, although his eyes never looked up.

"Why would you ask such a question?" He said with the usual scowl.

Alfred shrugged. "I was in the gardens today, and I didn't see too much flowers. That just got me wondering what sort of flowers you like."

"The gardens hmm?" Arthur muttered as he flipped a page. "Were there any roses out there?"

Alfred lit up at that. "Roses? I didn't see any. Are those your favorite flowers?"

Arthur seemed to hesitate at that, drawing out a long silence, until finally he nodded in that slow, unsteady way. "I suppose so." And as he said it, without even looking up, the young queen could already feel the physical embodiment of childish glee lighting up as an impossibly wide grin on Alfred's face.

"Well I think it would be awesome if we had roses in the gardens," said Alfred in a vain attempt at a casual tone. "I wonder if they could make roses in all sorts of colors! We could have blue roses, they might like that; it could go along with all the blue decorations in this palace!"

"I don't think those exist, Alfred."

"Maybe we can have some made! After all, we are the ki—um, I mean," Alfred furrowed his brows. He'd caught himself in time. "I mean, Yao told me if we had a request he'd look into it! Maybe they actually did find a way to make blue roses." He tried for a laugh, but Arthur seemed unimpressed. He had made no acknowledgement of Alfred's words and kept on 'reading'.

"I explored the gardens today," said Alfred again.

"You already told me that."

"Well, what did you do? Were you reading that same book all day?"

"No, I was not. I've finished two others earlier."

"Woah! You're a fast reader. That thing would've taken me like, a _month_ to finish!"

Arthur raised a brow. "Makes sense, I suppose, if it's you we're talking about."

Alfred snorted. "Well you probably had a lot of practice so that's no fair. Miss Amelia usually reads the books to us. You've probably read a lot of books on your own."

"Well, I suppose I have."

"Woah, did your old orphanage have a huge library too?"

"No. In fact, it was rather similar to Miss Amelia's. My home had a small collection that my father used to add to."

Alfred raised his eyebrows at that. "You remember your home?"

Arthur squinted at his book, holding it up a bit more over his face. "I wasn't in the orphanage that long."

"What happened? Did your house burn down? Was there an accident?"

Arthur didn't respond. He held the book closer to his face.

"Arthur?" Alfred tried to prompt him, but it was clear that the older boy was closed off for the night. Alfred made a mental note to add 'family' to the list of things he should never mention around Arthur, alongside being king and queen, as he made his way over to his own bed.

* * *

The classes began a week later. Three kind teachers a day sat them down in the library for a few hours, teaching them history, and arithmetic, and sciences. Arthur was quiet most of the time, but he'd be able to answer any question their teachers shot at them. Alfred was vocal; he tried to answer as best as possible and steer any lectures away into an off-topic story from the teacher's life, because he found those more interesting.

They'd have lunchtime and the afternoon to play. Then they met up with Captain Herdevary, who initiated little games and races. Arthur wasn't one to care and tended to idly run the laps as Alfred tried, and failed, to awaken his competitive spirit.

It would be like that for five days, and then they were free to explore as they pleased on the weekends. Arthur would coop himself up in the library and draw, write, or read. He always became hostile whenever Alfred got more insistent on him joining his exploration. Nevertheless, Alfred tried every day.

By himself, he'd walk down hallways he was unfamiliar with until he'd wind up at some ominous locked door or dusty broom closet. He'd walked into a few lavish bedrooms whose furniture were covered in immaculate white sheets. He ogled at the various tapestries that depicted royalty and war, often wishing Yao would be there to explain them to him.

He had visited the kitchens and befriended the sparse servants and cooks who worked there. He'd found the smithies where he found busy, burly men working with glowing hot metal and splintery woodwork. He'd also visit Reece and converse with him about the gardens and the old monarchy, about the stars and the sunset and whatever the old man would endure. Sometimes he was like Arthur, Alfred thought. Reece would be impatient and irritated if Alfred bothered him while he was working on a cluster of weeds, perhaps, or a bush or a stalk, but would eventually open himself to a bout of conversation. Sometimes, he'd laugh, and quite heartily at that.

Then, Alfred thought, maybe Reece wasn't like Arthur. Maybe Arthur was like Reece. Maybe Arthur was like a grouchy old man who just needed to be spoken to even if he never talked back.

So, every night, when Alfred returns from his after-dinner explorations, he'd sit down at the foot of Arthur's bed while the older boy read his novels. He'd talk and talk about what he'd seen that day. He'd talk about the extremely kind cooks who gave him desserts, to the heat of the smithies, of the fresh breeze in the gardens, of the tapestries and ornately carved doors and wide open windows and seemingly secret passages that wound themselves throughout the palace.

Arthur would never really look up at him in his pretense of ignorance. And Alfred would've bought it if Arthur wouldn't snort at his misuse of a word, or supply a name to an interesting object Alfred would describe, or call him an idiot whenever he mentioned tripping on a rug or getting hurt otherwise. Sometimes, he'd even laugh.

And even if those instances would be called Arthur's selective hearing, Alfred never failed to notice how frequently it had become when Arthur would 'read' with the book upside down in his hands. And when the book was upright, he never seemed to turn a page.

Weeks went by like this, and Alfred reveled in Arthur's not-so-discreetly hidden attention at his tales of the palace. Although, Alfred had come to wonder why it is Arthur would never want to explore the place himself.

One night, three months after they had arrived at the palace, Alfred dared to voice out his question.

"Hey, Arthur, how come you never want to explore the place yourself?"

Arthur snorted. "What gave you the idea that I would want to do that?"

Alfred stared at the upside down cover of the book in the older boy's hands. "Well, a few things," He mumbled. "I don't know. You like the place, don't you? You call the gardens I talk about pretty, you say that the tapestries are interesting. Wouldn't you want to see for yourself?"

Arthur hesitated, but his attention was still clearly not on his book. "I would," he said carefully. "I would think them a, well, pleasing sight. But I'd hate to look at them thinking that I own them."

Alfred tilted his head. "But it's not like you _own_ them, right?"

Arthur let out an exasperated huff. " _We_ own them, Alfred. Our home, our place, our stuff, as Yao said. What do you think makes all of this our stuff?"

"Well, we're the k—oh." Alfred blinked. " _Oh_."

Arthur glared at him over the top—or perhaps bottom—of his book. "Yeah. Oh."

So that was it, then. The palace, everything—it's another reminder to Arthur.

"Aren't you happy about technically owning the library, though?"

Arthur seemed to pause again, but then shook his head. "I'm happy knowing it's something I'll use, anyway."

Alfred didn't really get that. Heck, he didn't completely get anything Arthur said or did, but as long as he knew what not to mention, he felt that he would be a few steps closer to winning the other boy over.

* * *

The next day was the sixth breakfast Yao had been late for. He showed up with his coat sloppily slipped on, bags deep under his eyes, and he was practically dragging himself towards the table. Even Arthur was sporting an expression of concern.

As Yao walked through the doors, three guards followed him and took up position at the entrance. After the Jack had slumped into his chair and began wearily scooping up porridge, Arthur spoke.

"Yao? Are you quite alright?"

"Yeah, dude, you look like you haven't slept in weeks."

Yao gave Alfred a sidelong grin. "You're not that far off, kid." He chuckled lightly and began to eat his food, whereas the boys were nearly finished with theirs. "But don't worry about me. It's just that, well, tensions have been rising for the past few days now—but you needn't concern yourselves! Things have just been busy."

Arthur furrowed his brows. "Tensions? What sort of—?"

"Yao!" Interrupted a familiar cry from the doorway. Captain Herdevary was there, hair tied in a ponytail and half-dressed in leather armor, taking a few long strides into the room. "Yao, I need you at the Hall now."

Yao looked rather dejected, but gave the two young monarchs a weary smile then he took his final gulp of orange juice, before getting up and following the captain of the guard. Elizabeta only had time to flash the boys a slightly forced smile before disappearing beyond the doorway.

Across the table, Alfred shared a worried look with Arthur, and they finished their meals in silence.

* * *

The next day, things seemed a bit off around the palace.

Alfred and Arthur woke up to two guards posted by their door, both regarding them with solemn nods as they headed off to breakfast. Yao wasn't with them at breakfast and neither was he there at lunch. At both times, a set of guards were posted in and out the doors, as well as trickled throughout the hallways.

When Alfred tried leaving through the front doors of the palace for the gardens, the guards posted there—who wore heavier metal armor and carried a greater set of weapons—forbade Alfred from leaving the immediate courtyard, whose gates were also generously guarded. The young king attempted to amuse himself by splashing around in the marble fountain, but that quickly became boring.

He went to see Arthur but was surprised to find guards by the library door too. When he sought out his other routes to the gardens, he'd found the doors to those were guarded as well and was forbidden from leaving.

Finally, Alfred found an exit that wasn't guarded. The passage to the king and queen's private garden must have been so far behind the palace and lost in the inner maze of the outer gardens that whoever was posting the guards didn't see it necessary to have them there.

Alfred found Reece and was relieved to finally be entertained. They began speaking of the flowers again, beginning with their daily discussions of Alfred's gardening plans and winding up somewhere obscure like the evolution of horses. Eventually, the young king talked to Reece about the guards.

"It's weird. They're everywhere! I can't take a shower or get some bread without passing like, fifty guards!" Alfred exclaimed.

Seeing the young boy's wild grin, the gardener decided to take that statement with a grain of salt and regarded him with raised eyebrows. "Oh? Come now, mayhaps your Jack's just been increasin' them guards for your sake! You seem to be a rowdy young'un and he might think you to set the place on fire with all yer runnin' about."

Alfred scrunched his face in an attempt to look offended, but ended up with a mix of furrowed eyebrows and a half-suppressed grin. "Please, I don't go running around with a match!" Alfred giggled. "But really, I can't even go out around the gardens. I only got here because those doors were the only ones without guards. All the side entrances—heck, even the front doors! They've all got guards carrying swords with them. What if we're under attack?"

Reece hummed thoughtfully as he worked on trimming his bush. "Maybe your jack's just bein' extra secure, eh? After the last monarchy were killed he'd never been quite the same. Maybe he's just been takin' precautions for your sake, lad. Nothin' to worry about."

Alfred mimicked his thoughtful hum and planted his rump on the grass. "I guess so," he muttered with furrowed brows. "Still. I feel kinda caged in. The guards being all around are giving me a bad feeling."

* * *

"Alfred?"

The young king jumps. Upon walking into his shared room, he was surprised to have his companion speak to him first.

"Yeah?" Alfred responds, taking his usual seat at the foot of Arthur's bed. Arthur, meanwhile, has his book open on the mattress and he stares at it with hands folded in his lap.

"Yao wasn't at dinner today," Arthur muses.

"Or lunch." Alfred nods.

Arthur clearly isn't staring at his book any longer, instead picking idly at the sheets. Alfred waits for him to say something, and when he finally does, it's in a hoarse, strangled voice that shook with something that was almost like fear.

"Are we in danger?" Arthur whispered, eyes lowered. "Yao's been talking about tensions rising. Are we… Do you think we're about to head into war?"

Alfred's brows furrowed, and he instinctively inched closer to the other boy. "W-well, maybe Yao's just adding guards up to be secure, because, you know, we're kids. Maybe he just wants us to be _extra_ safe. I mean, I don't think we're in danger, you know. I've been talking to Reece—the gardener I told you about—and he says Yao really cared about the last king and queen. He's just adding extra protection 'cuz he cares about us too!"

Alfred offered his brightest smile and got a nervous glance in return. In the candlelight, Arthur's eyes were wide and unsure, that pretty forest-green flickering with a warm gold. In an instant those eyes weren't pointed at him anymore, and were instead staring out the windows, up at the silver glow of the moon over the gardens. He seemed concentrated, contemplative, like he was deciding something in his head.

Then Arthur sighed, and closed his eyes, shoulders sagging. "You know, Alfred…"

Arthur trailed off at the distant sound of breaking glass that came from down the hall. There were footsteps, loud and rushed, as though the guards at their door were running away. Then, there was a short, distant yell, almost a cry that was immediately cut off by what sounded like a loud thud.

Arthur was frozen and Alfred was right next to him, clutching his arm in his childlike grip.

And then all was quiet.

* * *

 **(a/n):** Woop, I hope you guys found this chapter a bit more interesting, and hopefully suspenseful. Please leave a review and tell me what you think! I love hearing from yall and comments motivate me to write asdfghjkl.

Till the next update!


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